Say It Again
by gleefullyyours
Summary: A little story of sweet words, naughty words, even incoherent words, and one surprising turn-on. Written to fill an anonymous prompt asking for accidental but appreciated dirty talk at the Glee Kink Meme.


**Title:** Say It Again

**Characters:** Finn and Rachel

**Rating: **NC-17

**Author's Notes:** Another story to fill a Glee Kink Meme prompt! This one pertains to dirty talk (something new for me!). The prompt was: _"The handholding and ILY scene in Journey really turned Rachel on and now she wants Finn to touch her under her dress. Finn gets aroused while fingering her (to what extent is up to you) and accidentally cusses, but it turns out that she loves his dirty talking so he keeps going. Bonus points for cuddling before or after."_ I had a _very_ hard time writing that one particular word that Finn says (rather accidentally), but he _is_ a teenage boy, and as my friend/beta reminded me, that's definitely something a teenager would say! ;) I know the dirty talk is fairly tame, but I did that on purpose - our boy is _not_ a sex god (yet). LOL!

* * *

The little bus has pulled away into the darkness of the school parking lot, and the members of the very defeated New Directions have waved sullen goodbyes to one another. Each makes his or her way to car or carpool, spirits and thoughts heavy with the team's loss and the epic events of the day. They drive away, one car after another, until finally, only two students remain.

Tucked in the dark shadow between their two cars, they've barely noticed that they're suddenly all alone. They barely care. Maybe this is some kind of escape, a way to forget that Monday is inevitable and glee club is over – maybe they're simply clinging to a bit of happiness in their new beginning by clinging to each other.

It's amazing how three little words, two bright smiles, and one outstretched hand can, well..._change_ things. Rachel's always found him attractive, of course, with those warm brown eyes and that trademark crooked smile that makes her heart beat just a little bit faster; but what she feels tonight isn't the same sweet and shy flutter in her stomach that she's used to feeling when he's close enough to touch.

This is closer to desire, to want. No, this is _need_. She thinks of his words, simple and honest and so beyond sixteen, and that thought leads straight to an urge she isn't going to be able to fight – not with his tongue sliding against hers, his strong hands splayed across her back, slowly moving ever lower.

For his part, the image of that poor mailman shattering his window, laying possibly-dead in the street, has played many times over in the span of these few minutes, and Finn is still half-mortified at the fact that he's rock-hard and pressed against her, because _surely_ she can feel that. (The other half is focused on nothing more nor less than his hands inching slowly toward her ass.)

A quiet moan escapes her throat (he's dizzy with the sound) and yes, it's definitely time to get more comfortable.

She fumbles in her purse, finding the keys and clicking the button to open the doors to her car. They fall inside, his long limbs filling up the space immediately, and as he pulls the door closed behind them, she settles in his lap and presses her lips to his once more.

Knees on either side of his hips and very, very aware of his arousal (she's lightheaded at the thought), her body moves of its own will, back and forth and pressed tightly against the erection straining his jeans.

His hands have finally reached that holy grail, palms spread wide against her ass. He's certain he'll never forget how this feels – that next week, later this summer, _tonight_, he'll lie in the dark of his bedroom and reach beneath the waistband of his boxers and remember the feeling of her heat as she rubs against his jeans, her perfect ass in his hands. (And he'll come ten seconds earlier than usual, of course.)

She's panting now, a sound from the back of her throat on every other breath. He's hardly able to breathe at all, attempting with every piece of himself – every piece that hasn't already broken and scattered and flown away – to stave off what he can already feel beginning to coil inside.

And then he's sure she's trying to kill him, lifting the hem of her dress and reaching behind her to grab his hand – holding it, turning it, pushing it between their bodies, between her legs. His wide eyes meet her gaze, intense and open, and she nods when his fingers move past her underwear, finding hot, bare skin. He has to know her this way; she wants him to feel every part of her. He loves her, and oh, does she ever love him back.

No conscious thought crosses his mind in this moment. He knows only slickness and heat and the sound of someone groaning (maybe him) and _Rachel_. Holy shit.

"Nnnng. _Unnnh_…" (Oh, dammit, that _is_ his voice.) "Holy..._fuck_, Rachel! You're so..._nnng_..." He's holding back nothing less than a tidal wave now, not a damn clue what he's doing with his hand and comprehending even less of what's coming out of his own mouth. "Your pussy is _so_ wet..."

Her eyes are open in an instant, and her hips still their motion against him.

_Oh_. Oh, my.

"My _what_?"

These are the first coherent words either one has spoken since this began with a kiss outside the car; her question pierces the haze of lust and mingled breath that already fogs the corners of the windows. The tidal wave immediately recedes.

Oh, no. Oh, _shit_.

"I'm so sorry. Oh my God, Rachel, I can't believe I...I'm such an idiot." He pulls his hand from between her legs, cursing his love-fogged brain and his astounding stupidity, shaking his head to try and clear the words from the air, to somehow make it better.

When her hand closes around his wrist, he finally looks into her eyes. He's surprised – shocked, even – to see the desire in her expression, her dark eyes shining with something he's never seen within them before, her lips quirked in a half-smile.

She guides his hand back, blinking heavily when one finger rubs past her clit, but never losing eye contact with him. "No, it's…okay. I, um…I liked it.

Say more," she whispers. Her hips move against him once more, and she bites her lip as her eyes close.

He doesn't quite know what the _hell_ just happened, but he thinks his pleated plaid skirt-wearing, knee sock-clad girlfriend may have just admitted that she likes dirty talk. (_Whoa._) But he's definitely not confused about the fact that he's never been more aroused in his life.

It's all a bit different when he has to _think_ about saying those things – when it isn't incoherent nonsense that falls from his lips as he touches her _there_ – but judging from the way her hands roam across his torso, hold tight to his shoulder, and _ohhh_, grip the hardness in his jeans, well, he figures he ought to make the most of the few seconds he has left in him.

"You feel so good. Do you...do you like that, baby?" he tries as he resumes the frantic work of his fingers. She nods, sliding her hand down the fly of his jeans. "You're so, um...so _hot_. And so wet." She nods again. (He's going to have to practice this, he thinks.)

"This is so..._ohh_ – " His middle finger pushes inside her, and he could swear his vision blurs. Hers certainly does.

"Unnngh. Oh, _shit_, Rachel. Shit! _Fuck_!" He can't come now, he can't come yet, not like this. A little voice in the back of his mind screams, mortified, that _no_, he can't come at _all_.

She, on the other hand, is only a few steps from the edge and so, _so_ ready to fall. One hand pressed to the bulge in his jeans, she reaches between her own legs, her fingers entwining with his in her wetness, and pushes hard against her clit, quickly circling once, twice, and again.

His jaw drops, eyes wide and surprised at what he can almost see in the dim light of the car, but can definitely feel with the fingers that move now to match her pace. Unbelievable.

And the tidal wave finally crashes over him, inside him, spiraling outward through his veins and behind his now-closed eyes, stilling the motion of his hand for a moment. What can usually be contained (so as not to wake a mom who sure as hell doesn't need to know about this) simply can't be held back tonight. He hears the most embarrassing sounds issuing from his own throat, gasping out words he doesn't even say in the locker room in front of the guys, much less the beautiful girl on his lap.

But this just spurs her on. Oh _wow_, is it ever sexy to hear her sweet Finn say such dirty, dirty things. Only for her ears, she thinks. All of this is only for her.

She leans forward to kiss him as that familiar warm rush of arousal builds down low inside her then explodes over and over, igniting every nerve ending from toes to shaking fingertips. Again, his jaw drops in surprise, and she kisses his bottom lip, sucking it lightly between hers. Even as her muscles still quiver inside, she thinks of the next time they can be alone, the next time they can share this – _oh_, and more – and be so wonderfully, amazingly close. The next time he can whisper words like those into her ear...

Both extract their hands, and she drops her head to his shoulder, hugging him close as her breathing slows. She loves his heartbeat against her ear, the warmth of his breath at her temple.

"Rach?"

"Mmm?"

"Did you really, like, _like_ what I said? You know, a few minutes ago?"

She nods into his shirt, and his large hands rub wide, gentle circles at her back.

"Finn?"

"Yeah?"

"I liked what you said this afternoon even more. Would you...tell me again?" she asks quietly. "I just –" She looks up at him. "I just like hearing it."

"Good. I like saying it." He grins and pulls her closer, feeling her smile against his shoulder. "I love you."

"Break a leg," she murmurs into his neck.

And they laugh, forgetting the world outside the car, happy to be happy together.


End file.
